Haven never expected to start receiving gifts twelve days before Christmas. They seemed to appear out of nowhere right when she needed them most. She wanted to figure out who was sending her these gifts, but the notes left with them didn't give anyt...
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My favorite thing about Christmas break is the fact that I can sleep in and do whatever I want. During the past few breaks, I've worked on my art projects, just like I plan on doing now. I glance over at the small table at the end of my bed where tiny figurines stand at attention, waiting for me to put them to use. They aren't painted yet, but I know exactly what they're going to be. Maybe I'll have time today to work on them since Hartley made me decorate the house more yesterday.
Throwing the covers off of me, I sit up in bed and stretch my hands above my head. Hartley got up hours ago, and I can hear her singing somewhere in the house. Grandma is complaining about something, which means she's still here. Sending a quick prayer up to whoever is listening to me, I get out of bed and gather up all my figurines in my arms. If I can get through the house without anyone seeing me, then I can get out to my treehouse, check on my two turtles, and get to work.
Holding my figurines tightly in my hands, I turn around and slip my feet into a pair of slippers beside the table. With those on, I now have to face the messy room that Hartley never seems to clean. I tried helping her in the past, but it didn't help. I let out a breath, steeling myself for my possible death while crossing the Land of Hartley.
I walk forward, stepping directly on a pile of clothes. Looking down at the clothes, I grimace. This particular pile is mine. Whoops. Shrugging it off, I continue on, bypassing a pair of yellow Converse sitting on the ground. Just as I near the door, my feet slide across a silky dress that Hartley borrowed from Amy a month ago, and I tip toward the ground. A squeal escapes my lips, but I manage to stay standing in a weird position. My legs are far apart from each other, and they're becoming wobbly, so I stand back up, sighing.
My heart pounds in my ears as I exit our room, trying to be discreet. If I'm able to sneak out the back door, I will be able to get to my treehouse. Looking down the hallway, I can see Grandma chilling on the couch, grumbling to herself about the Maddens. I'm intrigued by what she's saying (they're acting weird -- what's new?) but I'd much rather paint my little figurines in the safety of my treehouse than face her wrath and my sister's cheerful singing.
Turning toward the back door, I tiptoe over through the kitchen where it's located. Making sure I hold onto my figurines with one hand, I use the other one to grab the doorknob, spinning it to open the door. The hinges squeal ever so slightly, and I cringe. Pushing through the door, I ran outside and let the door shut behind me. Sucking in a deep breath of the fresh late-morning air, I look through the window near the door. Grandma and Hartley are still in the living room, which means they heard me and didn't care or they just didn't hear me at all.
Wrapping my other arm around the figurines, I smile widely as I stare up at my new treehouse standing above all the houses down our street. Marching toward it, I cross the yard in a few seconds and carefully climb up into my treehouse, this time making sure that there's no strange liquid ready to make me slip and fall.
Instead of buckets of ice cream, what greets me are the three Madden siblings. I stop short, my eyes widening as I try to hide the figurines in my arms and shirt. "What are you guys doing here?" I ask, my voice coming out strangely. "How'd you know I was coming here, too?"
